Someday
by Snitewing
Summary: It was a little known fact Marco did some painting, and he promised that someday, he would paint Jean . He would say this, and Jean's response would always be 'I know' .


It was a little known fact that Marco was a painter, so little known in fact that Jean was the only person who did. Back when their training wasn't so harsh Marco would take what little supply he owned out to the back of the camp where it was secluded. He would paint and paint and paint on end, often missing dinner because of it. When asked what he had been doing he would simply shrug and say 'not much,' and it would be left at that. Jean knew not to ask; if Marco wanted him to know he'd tell him. Apparently Marco did because one day he told Jean, who was both surprised and interested. "Someday," Marco had said, "I'll paint you."

Jean had smiled then, a warm thing that rarely appeared on his lips. "Of course you will."

Soon their time as trainees was nearing it's end. Keith worked them harder than ever before, day in and day out. There was no more time for leisure. Whenever the topic of painting came up between the two trainees it would always be the same.

"Someday," Marco would say, and Jean's reply would always be the same two words.

"I know."

Over the course of their training Jean and Marco grew closer together. Their bond was a slow, gradual thing, and it took time. At first nobody noticed how Jean and Marco would always partner up when needed, or how Jean got overprotective of Marco. No-one noticed how Marco would do his best to break up Jean and Eren's fights, but then someone did, that someone of course being Armin. Soon everyone else followed suit, Eren being the last one to do so (even _Keith _noticed those two had something going on!) Everyone just... accepted it. Soon one boy was never seen without the other and no-one questioned it when their hands interlocked and their sat shoulder to shoulder during dinner.

Still Marco never got the chance to paint Jean. They both knew he would, when he got the chance, but for now it would have to wait. "Someday," Marco would always say, and as always Jean would give the same reply.

"I know."

Trost was chaos. People were running and flying back and forth, some shouting orders others were too panicked to follow. The few people who remained somewhat calm were shocked. They all knew the titans were frightening, but they didn't expect it to be like _this. _Jean looked over to Marco for assurance. Mikasa had made her speech, and both trainees knew what needed to be done.

Marco nodded, so Jean raised his sword and ran, spouting out words of motivation to those who wouldn't get off their feet, using his maneuver gear to get where he needed to go. Marco followed behind by a few paces, encouraging Jean to keep on going.

"One more day Jean," he had said with conviction and hope, "one more day and we'll be in the interior." To Jean's ears Marco's voice was like that of angels amid all the chaos. "One more day and I'll finally do it."

Jean almost smiled at the reference to their promise. He turned his head for just a second, and he gave the ever familiar reply.

"I know."

It was finally over. More than thirty percent of them had died and Jeager was a freaking _titan _but it was _over_. Just a little more time, just a little but longer. One more job, one last clean-up and Jean would be going to the interior. He would be going and Marco would be going with him. It was that thought and that thought alone that kept Jean going. _One more day, _he told himself, repeating it in his head like a mantra. _One more day and we'll be safe. He'll get out his paint like he used to and I'll sit there and I'll smile for him and it's just one more god-damn day._ Jean said these words to himself again and again, ignoring the faces of the fallen, opting to throw them onto the pile with the others who hadn't made it. _One more day and you won't have to clean up the bodies like this._

Jean didn't expect what came next. He didn't expect that one body he found to be _his. _To be Marco's.

But there it was, and Jean's world just collapsed. Everything fell apart.

Jean's body went rigid as he looked at that of Marco's; his top right half was gone, cut straight down his middle. He came back together at his waist, leaving his left side in tact, mockingly so.

It was with that thought that Jean met a sickening revelation, and it made him want to scream as loud as he could.

Marco had left behind his heart.

Jean couldn't stand art after that. Just the thought of it made him sick. It always reminded him of how he had failed. How he failed to find time for him and Marco, how he failed to be there when he died, how he failed to protect him.

Jean couldn't stand it anymore, almost as much as he couldn't stand his own guilt. And yet sometimes he would be alone and he would find himself drawing small things, using whatever surface available. They were scribbles that didn't mean anything and how he _hated _them. Jean would throw whatever pen he was holding across the room out of short-lived rage. Eren or someone would ask him what the heck was wrong, but Jean would always ignore them. He just couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't stand not having Marco anymore.

He couldn't stand knowing that they would never be able to fulfill that promise.

Someday, Marco had said. Jean always replied with the same words. Turns out he really didn't _know_, and that was Jean's biggest lie. Jean called himself an honest man, and he hated it with every fiber of his being.


End file.
